Study Hall
by An Unfunny Joke
Summary: Ron and Draco are in the library together, but they can't seem to concentrate on their studies. **Implied slash**


**_Disclaimer: All things associated with the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling._**

**_Pairing: Slash. Ron/Draco. If you don't like that, I hope you know where the "back" button is._**

**_Rating: PG-13, for mild language and slashy themes._**

**_Author's Note: Yeah, I know this is kind of short. Flames are welcome, but please cut me a little slack. This is my first piece, after all…_**

            _Study Hall_

            Ron was annoyed. Why oh why did he have to sit next to Draco Malfoy? Because their teachers had assigned obnoxious amounts of homework and the library was crowded and there was no other seat, of course, the logical side of his mind reminded him. 

            Why couldn't Harry be here? Why couldn't Hermione? 

Because Harry had Quidditch practice and Hermione, Little Miss Brainy, had already completed all the assignments. The one day everyone else was at the library and Hermione wasn't. Usually Hermione was at the library and nobody else was. Oh yes, today the irony was so thick you could cut through it with a knife…

            "Ow!" Ron glanced murderously at Draco. "What was that for, Malfoy?"

            Draco blinked. "What was what for, Weasley?" His innocence was obviously fake. 

            "You bumped me on purpose."

            "I did no such thing…I'd _never intentionally __touch a Weasley."_

            Ron rolled his eyes and returned to his homework. Malfoy was such a bloody git…

            "Ow. Malfoy!" 

            "What?" Draco blinked again, once again obviously feigning innocence. "What's your damn problem, Weasley?"

            "You."

            Draco snorted. "Then the feeling's mutual."

            "Good!" Tentatively, Ron returned to his homework again, this time expecting to be bumped. When it had been three or four minutes, however, without any unwanted physical contact from Draco, Ron was moved by the sudden urge to kick Draco under the table.

            "What the hell did you do that for?" Draco snapped.

            Ron blinked. Now it was his turn to pretend to have done nothing. "Do what for?"

            "Kick me!"

            Ron grinned. "All right." He kicked Draco again under the table.

            "Ow! Hey!" Draco's glare was icy. "Weasley, you're a git."

            "Well, you're a git who's got a part-time job as a bouncing ferret."

            Draco flushed. "Well, _you're a git who's got __no job, and therefore, no money. Your parents multiply like ferrets, though."_

            "That's 'rabbits,' stupid. My parents multiply like _rabbits!"___

            A girl – was she in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff? – a few seats down raised her head. "Too much information," she said. "I really didn't need to know what your mum and dad did on their spare time."

            Ron's face turned furiously red. Draco snickered and made some comment about it matching his hair. 

            "Ow!" Draco yelped when Ron kicked him again. He sighed. "Why don't you just leave me alone, Weasley?"

            "Why don't _you leave __me alone?" Ron huffed. "You started this."_

            "Fine," snarled Draco, returning to his homework.

            "Fine!" Ron turned back to his homework, too.  It had hardly been fifteen seconds, though, when he felt someone bump him. "Malfoy!"

            "What?"

            "I thought you were going to leave me alone."

            "I didn't do anything," Draco replied. 

            "You bumped me."

            "I did no such thing. You stupid prat."

            "I know you are," Ron sang, "but what am I?"

            "I can't tell you, you might cry!" Draco stuck out his tongue.

            "Put that thing back in your mouth, Malfoy, or I'll rip it out." 

            "Bet you'd rip it out using your teeth," Draco sneered, "Bet you _love to get my tongue in your mouth, eh, Weasley?"_

            Ron scowled. "I don't want to know about your sick fantasies, Malfoy." 

            Draco sniffed. "Yes, you've got enough of your own."

            "Pervert," Ron said accusingly.

            "Closet pervert."

            "Faggot."

            "Closet faggot."

            "Bastard."

            "Prat."

            "Idiot."

            Draco peered over at Ron's paper. "You misspelled three words in the first paragraph, and I counted seven grammatical errors in your essay, and you're calling _me an idiot?"_

            Ron made a face. "You sound kind of like Hermione." 

            Draco blinked. "I do not," he spat venomously, "sound anything like that mudblood."

            "She's not a – a mudblood," Ron said defensively, "and you do sound like her. You're both snobby, bossy little know-it-alls! The only differences between you two are one, she's a girl and you're a…whatever you are, and two, she's got a damn brain and you've just a got a damn attitude problem!" 

            "It's not called an attitude problem when used in reference to a Malfoy," Draco scowled, "it's called knowing that you are truly superior. Especially superior to whiny little Weasleys who run around with Granger and Potter."

            "What are you doing studying now? Don't you have Quidditch practice or something, Malfoy?"

            "Slytherins don't have it today. We have it tomorrow." Draco's face suddenly stretched into a devilish smile. "You can come and _watch, if you think you can handle it."_

            "Handle it?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "Why the heck wouldn't I be able to handle it? It's just a bloody Quidditch practice." Almost as an afterthought, he added quickly, "Not that I'd ever take you up on the offer, or anything."

            "Well, when _Slytherins practice," said Malfoy, "we don't mess around."_

            "I bet you mess around with everything else."

            "Not with Weasleys, if that's what you mean."

            "You're a sick person, Malfoy."

            "So are you."

            "Ferret."

            "Weasel!"

            "Go to hell."

            "Go screw yourself. It's the only way you'll ever get laid." 

            Ron, finding himself at a loss for a suitable comeback, rolled his eyes and tried to go back to his work. Draco, however, was apparently having too much fun to let him alone now.

            He waited a few seconds before leaning over and whispering in Ron's ear, "So, what class are you writing that essay for? Transfiguration?"

            "Yes…" said Ron slowly. "Why?"

            Draco shrugged. "No reason, Weasley. I was just thinking a good topic might be turning – "

            Ron interrupted, "Shut up, Malfoy. I don't want to know! Besides," he added, "the topic was assigned. So why don't you study for your potions test – even though bloody Snape'll give all the Slytherins high marks anyway – and I'll write my essay, and you'll keep your perverted thoughts to yourself."

            "What perverted thoughts?"  Draco asked coolly. 

            Ron just scowled. By now some of the other students had finished their work and were clearing out of the library. Ron, glad now that some other seats were freeing, stood up to move a few tables down. 

            Before he did though, he turned and said, "Draco?"

            "What?"

            "I think I _will go watch you practice tomorrow."_

            Draco grinned. "Faggot."

            "Closet pervert," Ron replied. 


End file.
